The Threat From Beyond the Fourth Wall
by DisneyDelinquent
Summary: Michelangelo wakes up to find himself trapped in a bad fan fiction. To save his reality  and his manhood  from being totally wiped out, he'll have to team up with the teeny-bopping apprentice Timestress and face his greatest Enemy: his own darn fangirls.


A/N: Hey all! Well, it's been an awfully long time since I've posted something, but I finally finished this relic from a few years back. The idea came from something Pi90katana and I were discussing back then, but it took on a life of it's own and, well, here I am ^_^

This little bit of silliness was mostly brought to you by all the lovely ladies at Terrapin Tarts. You gals rock! Special thanks to Ivy-chan, who totally thought of it first :)

Also, I don't own these guys. I just like to mess with 'em every now and again.

* * *

><p><strong>The Threat From Beyond the Fourth Wall<strong>

Michelangelo was wondering if his brothers and father had had a big bowl of asshat for breakfast that morning, or if his teenaged (and therefore unstable) mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe it was both. Either way, Something Was Up. For you see, during his daily course of Being the Mikester, his brothers and father had been behaving in a most unusually pissy manner. And so it was that Michelangelo, having just finished morning practice, found himself on the end of a mouthful of abuse from Leo.

"Michelangelo, you never concentrate on anything except your stupid video games! You don't practice ninjitsu nearly enough! You are a disappointment to this family!"

"…What?"

"You heard me! You're an embarrassment! Get your lazy ass in the dojo and gimme ten flips!"

"Leo's right, Mike," Don said, suddenly in the lounge room (ninjas skills? Or merely there as a convenient back-up for Leo's assholery? We may never know) "You should be more focused on your training."

"Dude ... I'm sitting on the couch watching TV. What I ALWAYS do after those HOURS I spend in the dojo practicing ninjitsu, only today I have Pringles. What gives?"

"Oh, grow up Michelangelo! I don't care if you're happy! And I certainly don't care if I've previously displayed a deep affection for you and all your wackiness! I'm Leonardo and I'm here to crush your young poet's soul!" And with that he stamped away to the dojo (the only the place Leo _ever_ seemed to be when he wasn't eating, bathing or sleeping).

"Uhm … sure" Mike turned back to the TV, seriously weirded out now, but willing to let it slide. After all, he was used to being treated like this, like dirty sewer water on the sole of Leo's bare foot, never appreciated for all his shining, free spirited nature. Always he was forced into the shadows, the darkness; ever was his family trying to snuff out what little light he had left inside him …

… _Holy hell, where did THAT come from_?

Mike shook his head, hoping to clear it of these strange, sappy, unwelcome thoughts. Knowing it would help, he decided to check up on what Raph was doing. Good old take no crap, shed no tears, turtle-man of turtle-men Raphael.

Michelangelo found Raph up in the garage working on some kind of … thingie for the Battle Shell. He leaned against the truck and tried to peer at what was going on under the hood.

"Hey Raph," he said cheerfully, offering the Pringles "watcha working on?"

"Oh for Chrissakes Mike, can't ya go one freakin' second without _BOTHERIN' ME_?" the hothead all but screamed, throwing down a spanner and storming out. Mike stood in bewildered silence for a few moments before gathering his wits and following.

"Dude, what? I just said 'Hi' and offered you free Pringles!" he rattled the tube under Raph's proverbial nose almost hysterically.

"And yer really getting on my nerves! God, why can't you just respect my personal bubble?"

"Well, _geez_" Michelangelo huffed at his brother's retreating shell. "Someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the hammock."

On and on it went, all day. No matter where he was or what he was doing, at least one of his brothers was there to tell him what a useless jerkoff he was. It would have been really hurtful and frustrating if it wasn't so goddamn _weird_. Stranger still, each time one of his bros pulled their bizarre new routine, phrases like "hollow darkness" or "ripping apart my soul" or "you don't understand meeeee!" would drift across his mind, unbidden.

Which is why, later that afternoon, Mike was not surprised when he found himself on the couch surrounded by his brothers, unable to hear his video game over their ridiculous and oddly repetitive diatribes. He had just told them all to at least pipe the hell down for the cutscenes when, even over the noise of their outrage, he heard the unmistakable sound of a shoji screen being slid open with unnecessary force

"Michelangelo!" All eyes now turned to Splinter, who had slammed his cane onto the concrete floor with a commanding _crack! _"What is the meaning of your misbehavior?"

Mike could only gape as he suddenly realized tears were welling in his eyes. "M-my…? Sensei, I was just trying to play …and just wanted … I _– I was giving them PRINGLES!_"

Splinter heaved a sigh of the long-suffering.

"Your brothers and I are beginning to tire of your infinite, constant, and incessant childishness! Clearly you have learned nothing of maturity and diligence, despite my best efforts! You are neither mature nor diligent! You are childish, like a child!"

It was here that Michelangelo finally caught up with the reality of what was happening. Splinter could sometimes be a windbag, but he had never, in Michelangelo's memory at least, spoken as though his lectures were written by a twelve-year-old who didn't understand the meaning of the word "redundant". And why, _why_ was he crying? In his gut, the Mikester knew that something was definitely, horribly wrong.

"As punishment for your obvious lack of maturity," Splinter went on, while Mike's brothers sniggered and pointed elbowed each other's ribs "you will not be accompanying your brothers and me to the surface this evening. Instead you will stay home and clean the Lair! It is filthy!"

So it was. Mike could have sworn though, as he looked around and took in the mess, that those cobwebs had not been there before, nor that hazardous looking chemical spill leaking out onto the living room floor from Donatello's laboratory, nor those dirty dishes covering every counter and bench in the kitchen. In fact, as he recalled it had been Leo's turn in the kitchen this morning, and no matter how he mayn't like them any more than the rest of his brothers, Leo never, _ever_ skipped out on his chores.

Mike couldn't exactly articulate this thought but the aforementioned feeling of wrongness increased. What he _could_ articulate was that it was Halloween, and that his father had just grounded him on the one night a year that was, by an unspoken but clearly understood agreement, the only night when a trip topside was not a privilege but a right. No matter how badly you may have screwed up, Halloween would always be a guaranteed night on the town. Halloween was like, sacred.

and then there was … but … what? the … yes, and there was … that …

And there was that masquerade party Michelangelo only remembered just now – the one he had apparently been looking forward to for weeks! How could he have forgotten it? It was totally going to be the best night of life, ever! There was going to be all kinds of neat stuff! And like _everyone_ was going, too – April and Casey, all their buddies they rescued from the Underground City, Usagi and Gen, the Daimyo and his son, Leatherhead, Angel and her bro, a ton of people from the Justice Force, (but not the homeless guys 'cos they smell bad and homeless people are ugly and gross) and hell, he had reason to suspect even Jhanna was going to make an appearance for some reason! He just _had_ to make Splinter see sense.

Michelangelo opened his mouth to calmly and respectfully remind Splinter of the important date.

"YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND ME! NO-ONE DOES! NO-ONE EVEN _TRIES_ TO! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU A-A-ALLL!"

He broke off into uncontrollable sobs, flung down the empty Pringles tube and ran to his room. He had slammed the door and flopped onto the bed, still sobbing, before he realized that he had just experienced possibly the weirdest moment of his existence (which, coming from a five-foot talking turtle, was saying an awful lot). So he did what he was wont to do in stressful situations on the home front – he dug out his last tube of Pringles and a can of Mountain Dew, picked out some choice issues of Justice Force and tried not to panic.

That is to say, he dug out his last Bic razor blade and a black-bound notebook covered in band stickers, and stared at his Gerard Way poster, fighting back tears.

"Gahh!" Michelangelo let out a startled cry and flung the foreign objects across the room on impulse, feeling truly afraid now. This was … and… had his room always been this dark? He supposed so, since most of the wall space was covered in posters that were mostly in the black palette… but… And who _were_ all these faces on the posters, anyway? Why, they were his favorite bands of course, all his favorites … they were the only people who understood his suffering, yes … but then … who …? He picked an action figure up off the dresser, turning the alien object over in hands. The black cape and cowl … so familiar and yet … but … this symbol…the stamp on the base … batman…? _Batman_! Yeah, that was right, the coolest dude ever inked! Duh! And those were all his heroes on the wall, all vividly coloured, all oozing strength and heroism – The Justice Force, and Superman, and the X-Men representing his mutant brethren, all fighting the good fight! Yeah! He grinned and went to retrieve his comics and razor. That is, his diary and chips. His … but what …? there was … yes … Michelangelo put the scented candle back on the dresser and scowled up at the Linkin Park poster on the ceiling, wondering why he'd broken into a cold sweat and wishing his heart would stop pounding so hard. After all, nothing to be afraid of in here … Yes, this was his sanctuary. This was _right_, yes, this was who he truly was, and if his family couldn't accept that then he'd just cut on himself until he bled to death and serve them right, not that they'd care …

His brooding was rudely interrupted by a bright flash of light and the sound of a voice that managed to be disgustingly chirpy even in apparent dismay.

"_Craaap!_ I'm too late! I got the timing all wrong! Okay girl, calm down. You can totally still set this right!"

"Renet?" Michelangelo rubbed his eyes, smearing his … eyeliner? Oh, hell …

"The one and only!" said the blue-suited apprentice Timestress, striking a pose straight from the pages of a magical girl manga and looking only too pleased with herself.

It occurred to Michelangelo that the day's weirdness and this sudden arrival of the buxom time apprentice probably weren't unrelated, and he was gripped by a sudden dread. If whatever was happening to him and his family was up Renet's alley, it was worse than he had dared imagine. So very much worse. But at last, he could get some answers – namely, what was happening, who (or what) was responsible, and how he should go about putting the offending party down.

"I don't suppose you could shed some light on what the hell's going on here?" he asked, trying not to look around too much. He kept seeing things in the corner of his eye that didn't belong, only every time he tried to look at them they weren't there – a creepy cracked mirror turned out to be his Titan shield, or a freakish guy on a poster with blood dripping from his jaws was just a hero in a red cowl. As long as he kept his eyes on Renet, everything looked mostly normal.

"There's been a bit of a time-space … situation. I would have gotten here sooner and all, only your timeline is all like … fuzzy. I had to guesstimate my arrival. It's seriously weird! And not just you guys. Other people's lines get fuzzy in places too! It's all like, people you guys know … like, when you cross paths with them, whatever's messing with your line messes with theirs as well! Even mine! Even though I'm, you know, not supposed to look and all… you won't tattle will you? I was just like, confirming a temporal hypothesis!"

"Yeah, got it," Mike said, his amusement losing to his impatience "But what does it all _mean_?"

Renet bit her lip and stared at the scepter, clearly thinking hard. "Well, now that I'm here I can sense one dimension is totally crossing over into this one and all, but it's like … forcing itself, you know? Normally dimensional instability occurs all passively, like from an accident or side effect of some magic mumbo-jumbo or whatever. Or like sometimes, at totally important turning points in history that affect thousands of timelines, the fabric of time-space gets a little stretched so it's like a bit easier to slip through the weave and all. Um, you following this?"

Michelangelo nodded, and Renet plunged on.

"But it usually happens at points in the timeline where like, significant events occurred but things easily might have gone another way or whatever. Usually, other than that change of events, the Universes are virtually identical. But this thing is like, changing this whole Universe all purposely to something different entirely. There's like zero dimensional compatibility! It's like you guys won't even really exist as yourselves on the other side! Whatever's making this happen seems to be taking this Universe and twisting it into some hollow, unrecognizable version of itself, and it's totally not gonna be pretty!"

"I think I get it now. At least, it could explain why everyone was acting so bizarre today. I mean, Splinter was talking like … like some kid trying to sound like an old person, only really mean, you know? I mean, he grounded me on Halloween! How unfair is _that_? And Leo, Don and Raph … they were all … so _mean_! They totally don't get me at all! I'm so sick of everything! Can't they see I'm _SUFFOCATING_ here?"

There was a short pause that contained enough awkwardness for a hundred Christopher Walken performances.

"Sorry," said Michelangelo "But that's just it! I've been like this all day. It's like one minute I'm fine, the next I start spewing all this garbage about tortured souls. And what the crap is up with this_ room_! The lair, too! It was clean, then Splinter said something about it being filthy, and then suddenly it was all gross and dirty! I didn't realize it before but—"

"It's really serious, all right," Renet said "At this rate, you'll all totally be turned into big meanies or pathetic weeping losers! But why? What's forcing this on you, and what could it possibly stand to gain from all this?"

"I dunno who's doing this, but I do know we got plenty of enemies who'd have a lotta reasons for turning this family against itself. Reckon we should, y'know, round up the usual suspects?"

"You think one of your enemies has like, the scientific or mystical resources to pull this off, or whatever?"

"Shredder would. It'd be his style, too. He's done similar stuff before. Like, creating illusions to hit us where it hurts, or sending in the robot Splinter thingie to get at us from the inside. That kind of thing."

"I don't know, Mikey. This isn't an illusion. This is really happening to your Universe. And, I mean, taking a timeline and changing prior events to force a certain situation in the perceived 'present time' is one thing, but this is like, a total existential overhaul! I … I'm starting to have my suspicions, but …"

"But what? What d'you think?"

"We-ell, this is kinda hard to explain. Not to mention a total Timestress taboo. I could like, lose my _hat_ for this! But … you have to know, I guess."

"What?" Oh, Michelangelo did not like her tone at ALL.

"Well, okay. So there's like this other Universe out there, very similar to this one, only no aliens, no Shredder, no Battle Nexus, and definitely no "you guys"."

"Oh. Lame."

"Only you guys _do_ exist there. As fiction. You have all these comic book series's, a few TV shows, some movies, action figures, DVD's, T-shirts, and then there was that lame crossover with the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers …"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa … Mighty Morphin' _whatnow?_ We're like, superheroes in that world?"

"Fictional ones, yeah."

"Excellent! Hey, do I have a fanbase? Full of cute girls? Oooh, please, _please_ tell me it's bigger than Raph's!"

"Mike, please! This is _so_ totally serious and confidential! Remember the part where I could lose my title?"

"Right, right. Sorry." He was still grinning, though.

"Anyway, you do have a fanbase – "

"Yes!"

"—and I don't know if it's any bigger than Raph's or whatever, but they are pretty active. They create websites, fan art, comics – and fan fiction, all about you and your brothers."

"Cooooool!"

"Not so cool. You see, the fandom hive-mind is like … changing. The girls over there like their guys to be what they call 'complex' and 'sensitive', and what we would call, um, 'whiny'." Renet, it seemed, was one of those lucky folks who could pronounce quotation marks.

Michelangelo, meanwhile, did not like where this was going. "Uh huuuuh …" he prompted, trying to ignore that growing dread in the pit of his stomach. _Eyes on Renet, dude. Just keep your eyes on the babe and try not to panic._

"I think this trend in the fandom is affecting this world. I think somewhere, out _there_, a pre-teen girl is seriously trying to re-write your life. That would explain the sudden changes, like your room or the messy lair and stuff. Is there anything else you can think of that's different? Something important that only recently occurred to you, but at the time it felt like you were remembering something? Something that felt like it was just 'written in'?"

Mike smacked his forehead in a gesture of epiphany and barely noticed how clichéd it was. "The costume party! I knew there was something weird about the way it just popped into my head!"

"Like a masquerade ball type thingie?"

"Yeah!"

"We gotta go to that party," said Renet, with uncharacteristic firmness. "That's where the culprit will make her move. These types can't resist crow-barring themselves into innocent universes. You'll know the enemy when you see her: she'll be the sweetest, smartest, most attractive girl in the room. Just keep your wits about you, okay?"

"Okay," Mike said, swallowing hard. "Oh, hey! I just, uh, 'remembered' there's a costume in my closet…"

"Then the enemy'll be expecting you to wear it to the party. You should put it on. It'll totally make her think she's got the upper hand and give us the element of surprise and stuff."

"Good idea," Mike says grimly, opening the closet and holding up the offensive garment. "But you gotta promise me we'll make her _pay_ for this."

"Totally."

Mike tugged on his costume with difficulty and tried not to think too hard. _My life is being taken over by some nutso teenage girl, and my only hope of salvation is ANOTHER nutso teenage girl. Spirits, gods and ancestors help me._

It was as if Renet had read his mind: "Relax, Mike. This isn't my first rodeo – or like, my first fan-related fiasco. I had _weeks_ worth of temporal backlash to clean up after that bizarre incident with Don and that creepy alien lady …"

"…you mean Jhanna, right?"

Renet's eyes went dark and serious and for a moment she was almost cool, stupid hat and all.

"I wish, Michelangelo. I only wish."

* * *

><p>Night had fallen by the time Michelangelo and Renet stood in a shadowy alley across the street from the function hall, where it looked like the party was already in full swing. They'd opted to go on foot – the sceptre had been ruled out as a reliable means of transportation due to the current "fuzzy-ness" of the timeline. They'd taken most of the journey via the sewers, which was why Renet was now trying to scrape her boots clean on the asphalt.<p>

"Ew, ew, ew, ew …" she whined "I'll never get this crud off! Ugh, do you _know _how few dimensions there are where I can get boots in this material?"

"You think you got it bad?" Mike shifted uncomfortably in his costume. "No man or male turtle should ever be forced to wear this much lace and crushed velvet."

"I dunno," Renet teased. "I think it's way charming. Dashing, even."

"Stupid is more like it. What the hell made her think a mutant turtle would look good dressed as a – what am I even supposed to_ be_ in this get-up, anyway?"

"Duh! You're the Prince, Mike! And you'll be _her _Prince if she gets her way."

Mike shuddered, and was silent. Now that they were so close to the enemy, it was taking more of his concentration to keep his mind his own.

Suddenly, the double doors were flung open and Ryan appeared, dragging Angel down the steps by her hair and screaming obscene names at her. Angel was sobbing, limp in his grip. She had a cut lip and a black eye and, though she had never been a pretty girl, she still managed to somehow look utterly gorgeous. Mike made a move to help her –

"Wait!" Renet said, throwing an arm across his chest not a moment too soon. Raphael came barrelling out of the hall at Ryan, and punched him in the face. Ryan made a run for it, not that Raphael or Angel noticed. They were already making out right there on the front steps.

Ryan stumbled into the alley, looking pale and utterly lost. He fixed his bewildered gaze on Michelangelo in his costume, and then on Renet in her get-up. His expression cleared a little.

"Let me guess – this is all just a _bad dream_, right?"

Mike grinned. "Right."

"Can you handle it?" the look Ryan gave them was intense. _Can you help my sister, because Christ knows I've got no idea_, it seemed to say.

"We got this," Mike said. "Just get as far away from this place as you can, dude."

"You don't gotta tell me twice," Ryan muttered, striding off and not daring to glance back at his sister on the steps.

"She's messing around with them," Mike said through gritted teeth. "Playing out her sick rescue fantasies, making villains outta good people!"

"I think we're late enough to be making a fashionable entrance," Renet said, adjusting her grip on her sceptre, cape fluttering in a sudden breeze (New York's weather had such a wonderful sense of drama). "Like, shall we?"

"Yeah," Mike grinned. "I think it's time I gave my Cinderella a little token of my affection."

They were the picture of confidence, the ultimate cool team-up, making quite the pair as they strode up the steps (_don't look at Raph and Angel don't look don't look don't look oh gross tongue action ew ew ew don't look don't look don't look_). They struck their most heroic poses in the doorway, backlit by the orange glow of the streetlight outside. Mike opened his mouth to shout something intimidating –

– and died a little inside.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"…Mikey, I – I'm scared!"

"I thought you said you've done this before!"

"Nothing like this, I haven't! This is like way beyond what I've ever dealt with before! Ooh, I wish Lord Simultaneous were here!"

It was like being in some kind of bizarre alternate reality – a nightmare parody of a life that yesterday had seemed so safe and comfortable (deadly enemies notwithstanding). First of all, while from the outside the venue was your average function hall, inside it was a massive and ornate ballroom. Mirrors lined the walls, the polished stone floor gleamed by the light of the colossal chandelier, and the hall echoed with all the sounds of utter pandemonium. Anyone who wasn't screaming at someone was crying alone, or else making out with an unlikely partner. The last two sane people left in the entire Universe grimly took in the scene.

Splinter was shouting at April, who had apparently greatly dishonoured their family, and now she had to atone with her body. April was apparently only too willing, and it turned out the two had always been secretly in love. The Daimyo burst into tears because he had also secretly carried a torch for "the handsome rat warrior," but he was not upset for too long, because Usagi was there to comfort him. Casey sat in a corner, drooling and making "dur" noises. In another corner, Leonardo was throwing up, and Mike couldn't help but notice he looked kind of … fat. Donatello appeared at Leo's side, gently admonishing him for exerting himself at this stage in his pregnancy and warning him to be careful with their precious baby. Mike thought he might just hurl too, and looked away. The masks and freaky costumes everyone was wearing only added to the surreal atmosphere, and the light from the chandelier, reflected in the mirrors a thousand times over, seemed very harsh.

No one seemed to realize Mikey and Renet were there. They stood frozen on the threshold, still in their poses. The streetlamp that was backlighting them flickered a few times and out on the street a couple of passing trick-or-treaters pointed and giggled.

Suddenly, Michelangelo was overcome by a powerful wave of loneliness. He should have known no one would notice his entrance. He'd gone to all the trouble of sneaking out while he was grounded and no one even _CARED_ …

except … but … no, that's not …! yes … all along … no one … except …

Except _her_. He knew if anyone in this room would care about him, if anyone would see him for his true self and truly love him for what he truly was, it would be her. His princess. His beautiful Cinderella. Oh, how lonely his days had been without her, those dreadful days before he knew her beautiful face, her melodious voice, the way her stunning orange hair fanned out like dancing flames when she trained or fought, because they fought together, oh yes, and she was always one step ahead of him, always the fastest, the strongest, the smartest... She was just … perfect. He knew she'd be here … he had to find her, to seek sanctuary in her arms …

mike

Mike.

"Mike!"

Renet was grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "What are you doing? Get a grip!"

Mike blinked and shook his head a little. His entire field of vision was taken up by Renet's –

_Face! Look__ at her _face_, dude!_

"Renet! I just 'remembered' her. I … I think I'm in love with her!"

"Keep it together, Michelangelo. She's close. You're letting her get to you!"

"Y-yeah. Just gimme a sec…" Somehow, he'd made his way into the thicket of people, and they were making it hard to get his focus back. (_it's hard it's all so hard I wish I could die I wish I could end my suffering!_). A few feet away, Genosuke dropped dead of a heart attack. No one else noticed.

"I can sense her now. She's got a powerful temporal signature, and it's coming from somewhere over there. That's where the dimensional instability is the strongest." There did seem to be an awful lot of people in the area Renet was indicating, and that's where the arguments were the loudest and the kisses the sloppiest. Suddenly, the crowd parted in the strangest way – the way they always do in sappy romantic movies, except in real life the effect was creepy rather than charming. They didn't even realize they were doing it, but as one the guests drifted aside to make way for _her_.

She was the most incredible woman anyone ever laid eyes on. Her skin was milk-white, fair and glowing. Her hair was pulled up behind her head in a loose and simple 'do, set off with pretty silver clips, and a few locks tumbled – _cascaded_ – down her back in luminous orange waves. She was dressed in a simple but elegant gown (white, to symbolise her shining purity) that flattered her stunning physique. Her eyes shone with laughter, intelligence, protectiveness, and a liking for green tea and sushi and stuff. They were a deep, pure blue like the night sky or, more appropriately, the sapphires that were her namesake. She seemed to shine beneath the chandelier; a beautiful light surrounded her as she made her way towards Michelangelo, her rosy lips curved in a warm and gracious smile.

This was the Enemy, in all her glory and terror.

"I think I'm gonna barf," Renet sniggered.

Mike could not answer her. Indeed, he felt he might never speak again such was the beauty he was witnessing. Oh, how unfit he was to lay his eyes on her, how glorious was this moment in time. He drank in every perfect detail of her and he knew when he went home this evening he would write pages and pages –_volumes_ – in his diary about this one precious instant in which he gazed upon her in all her splendour –

Renet casually reached up behind his head and gave him a good smack. It seemed to do the trick. At least, his vision cleared a little, and he narrowed his eyes. The Enemy seemed to have lost that freaky halo around her, and he could see now that she was older. Like, a_ lot_ older.

"Renet – look at her! She's gotta be what, 25 at least!"

"Oh my gosh, you're right!" Renet gasped, and then made a face "And she's got the hots for you? You're like ten years younger than her! That's _seriously_ creepy!"

"I thought you said she was a teenager!"

"Oh, I – I just assumed! I mean, her writing was way substandard so I thought she must still be in like middle school or something!"

Sapphire was now standing before Mike. She seemed totally unaware of Renet's presence as she fixed a dewy gaze on the turtle. Mike gritted his teeth.

"Hello, Michelangelo."

"Sapphire," Mike acknowledged coldly, staring her down.

Sapphire laughed; a musical little titter that he 'remembered' sounded like the purest notes of a golden harp. Now, however, it sounded to him like the breaking of things and it sent horrified goosebumps tingling up his arms.

"Why so formal, my love?" she said flirtatiously, sidling up close to him and looking up into his eyes through beautiful long lashes.

Why _was_ he being so cold, anyway? How could he be this way towards the one he loved so dearly? She was everything he had ever wanted, yes, and she was the key to the light he sought deep within his dark and tortured heart. He would wrap his arms around her slender waist and take her away from her life of abuse and misery and they would live together beneath the city, spending every day laughing together, training together, and one day they would raise beautiful half-human, half-turtle babies together –

"Nice try," Renet's voice sounded very far away as she roughly pulled Michelangelo back by the ruffled neck of his costume, and he came to himself with some effort. He could sense now that the Enemy was pouring more power than ever into drawing him in. He clenched his fists and _focused_.

"Cut the crap, lady," he said. "I'm not interested in playing your games."

"Come, now, Mikey," she pouted, giving a smouldering look and sashaying close to him again "You know how I can make you feel … you know I can give you what you want …"

"What I _want_ is my life back," he said firmly, pushing her off. Her touch was cold even through the thick fabric of his costume. "Your sick little spell or whatever isn't gonna work anymore. I can fight you!"

"She's getting way desperate," Renet said to Mike. "Guess she's not used to resistance. It must be like upsetting her or something."

"Actually, _Renet_," Sapphire said, and her voice had lost all it's sickly sweetness. She seemed annoyed at having to acknowledge Renet's existence. "I'm far from it. I write the story, remember? You are but puppets to me; with my word processor I make you slaves to my whims and prisoners of my fancies!"

"Tscha! What_ever_," Renet sneered.

"Why are you even here, you stupid bimbo? As I recall, you're not on the guest list."

"Well, I'm like _so_ sorry to crash your party, princess, but I go where the work is. You're interfering with the temporal stability of this timeline and you are _totally_ shattering like every law and code pertaining to the correct conduct of inter-dimensional activity," Renet paused to look Sapphire up and down, adding savagely "And I really can't say much for your fashion sense, either."

"You're trying to turn me into some kind of weeping, self-pitying, wet-tissue _loser!_" Mike said accusingly. "And don't even get me started on what you've done to my family!"

"But Michelangelo, my sweet, do they not mock you at every turn, belittling your accomplishments and disrespecting you as a person?"

"That's not gonna work, lady! You can't turn me against them." He turned to Renet. "Now would be a pretty good time to use that sceptre thingie."

"I caaaan't!" Renet whined. "Not yet!"

"Why not?" he hissed. "I can't keep her out of my head forever!"

"Well, um, she's taken root in the dimensional make-up of your Universe, so I can't like expel her right away without risking serious damage to the fabric of time-space. I need you to weaken her before I can make my move!"

"How?"

"Plot holes. Expose enough plot holes and her story like loses its power, allowing me to safely banish her."

"What are you two whispering about?" snapped Sapphire. Then her eyes lit up like fire and she looked half mad when she fixed those bizarre eyes on the apprentice Timestress "Wait, don't speak – I see now! It's all so clear! I see the way you whisper in his ear with your serpent's tongue! You're jealous, aren't you, Renet? You want him for yourself so you seek to turn him against me. You would rip asunder the truest of true loves for your own selfishness!"

At this ridiculous accusation, something in Michelangelo broke. Something that said, "I've had enough of this bullshit".

"Truest of true loves? Please," he said. He tapped a finger to his head "According to your story I've known you for like a week. That's way too short a time to form a real relationship."

Sapphire recoiled as though he'd dealt her a physical blow.

"Here we go …" Renet said with a satisfied smirk.

"And anyway," Mike went on "Why would I even expose myself to you? I'd never risk my family's safety for some girl."

Sapphire gaped, trying to re-focus her power. "Um. But that night, when you rescued me …"

"I would have faded away into the shadows. Like, oh I don't know, a _NINJA_."

"Okay, I'm related to April, then!"

"No way would April expose us to you!"

She was definitely losing her cool. Mike could practically see the cogs whirring as she tried to cover her bases. But it was too late - he had her cornered, and it was only round one.

"Fine! I- I found you! I tracked you down and confronted you on the rooftops!"

"Hah! You, chase down the Battle Nexus Champion? I don't think so. Like you could sneak up on the Stealth Master!"

Mike became aware that the guests were slowly breaking away from their personal soap operas to watch the showdown. Some of them were shaking their heads as if to clear them, looking confused. Leonardo was looking at his midsection, an expression of utter horror slowly dawning on his features.

Sapphire sobbed and held her head in her hands. "Nooo," she moaned. "I can't – I won't let you go!"

"And let's talk about this emo thing," said Mike, pulling off his neck ruffle and casually unbuttoning his costume "Because, you know, I always thought I was the _cheerful_ one."

"It's a … mask you wear … to protect your fragile soul…" she was sinking to her knees. She'd lost her heavenly glow and her hair was losing some of its luminosity.

It was a full four seconds before Michelangelo could fully comprehend what he'd just heard.

"...Fr-fragile soul?"

"Yes!" Sapphire said, and hope re-kindled in her eyes.

"You're joking, right?"

She answered with a look of utter solemnity in those big, blue, freakish eyes. Mike couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

"Pffft! You think I'm …? Oh man, I gotta write that down… 'fragile soul'! Hahah!" Mike tried and failed to get himself under control. Renet was giggling into her hand and even some of the guests were cracking weak smiles (albeit very, very confused and uncertain ones).

"No! Listen! Beneath your sunny exterior lies a complicated and tortured man! You don't wish to worry your brothers even though they wouldn't care anyway, so you hide your true self and pretend everything is fine! But secretly, your emotions fester within you, eating away at your soul, killing you from the inside – what is so funny?" she was rapidly losing her looks and her power.

"Look, lady," Mike said, breathless and grinning. "I dunno what ninja turtle you think you've been fangirling all this time, but lemmetellya – there's nothin' 'fragile' about me. It's actually kind of insulting for you to say so."

Sapphire let out a cry of despair as her beautiful figure flattened where it was once full and filled out where it was once flat. It looked like she was sufficiently weakened, and about damn time.

"Yo, Timestress," Mike said. "Ready to do your thing?"

"Sure, Mikey. It'd be like, my pleasure." Renet approached the Enemy, holding the sceptre aloft over the quivering thing kneeling on the floor. The crowd went eerily silent. Even the dreadful emo music had stopped. Across the room, Jhanna discovered Gen's body and let out a piteous wail of grief for her fallen lover.

Sapphire looked at Mike beseechingly, tears spilling over her pale lashes and down her rather plain face. She was pouring what was left of her strength into one last, desperate attempt. "Michelangelo, my darling… is there nothing more you have to say to me?"

"Just one thing," he grinned wickedly, pulling back his fist and staring straight down into those creepy blue eyes. "Get the hell out of my Universe."

And he punched her square in her annoyingly perfect nose.

* * *

><p>They were in his room again – as amusing as it would have been to watch his brothers' faces as they fully came to their senses, each in the middle of his own awkward circumstance, it would have been considerably less amusing to deal with the aftermath of Splinter and April's romantic interlude. That image was something Mike would give a few rare comic books to forget. No, with a few choice words and wave of the sceptre, Renet had vanquished the Enemy in a flash of light and zapped everything back to that morning, just after training, so that for the others it would be as if none of it had ever happened.<p>

Michelangelo's world had righted itself. Soon he'd be on the couch with his usual morning line-up, and his brothers and father would be there, back to their regular old selves and hopefully willing to partake in Pringles. He looked around his mercifully normal-looking room, and then at the Timestress, who was peering at his figure collection.

"Hey, Renet? Thanks. Really."

She straightened up brightly. "No problem! It's like my job and all."

"I mean it! I don't even want to know what coulda happened to us if you hadn't shown up. But, you know, now that I think about it …" he looked at her shrewdly. "We never even did the sneaky ninja disguise thing. I mean we practically busted down the front door. So explain to me again – why was I wearing the costume?"

"Like, honestly? I just made you wear it for kicks. Consider it payment for another fan fiction-related catastrophe solved, thanks to yours truly." She gripped her sceptre, ready to head back to Nulltime.

"Right," he grinned. "Hey – don't be a stranger, okay?"

She gave him a smile that was beautiful because it was real. "Sure, Mike. See you around and stuff!"

And then she was gone, and the couch was silently calling him. Also Raph, though he was a lot less silent about it.

There was still one last thing, however, that Mike felt he needed to do. He stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed. He was still reeling from the revelation of that other dimension, the place where he and his brothers were fictional cartoon heroes. Mike focused for one last time, reaching out for what he knew must be there, and when he opened his eyes it stood before him. He felt the appreciative gazes of a thousand fans from Beyond and steeled himself.

Thus Michelangelo did break the mysterious Fourth Wall for the very first time.

"Hey, uh, everyone. I'm not good at saying these kinds of things, but I hope we've all learned a valuable lesson today, um, that being that if you write bad fan fiction Renet'll come getcha! Heh. Uh, look, in all seriousness? When you write your stories and stuff, you can put us in all sortsa crazy situations. Like, whatever floats your boat, I guess. But please, guys, write us – write our _characters_ – with a little respect. Write us how you know we'd wanna be written. That's all. And, um, thanks."

Mike gave a little wave as the Fourth Wall faded from his awareness. He smiled to himself as he grabbed his precious Pringles and practically skipped out into the common area of the lair, flipping over the back of the couch and landing next to Raph.

"Jeez, what took ya so long?" Raph said, in his usual gruff and manly way. Mike could've cried for relief.

"I had to forage for sustenance, dude!" Mike grinned, offering up the goods.

Raph took a small stack of chips with cool approval. "Spazmoid."

Mike couldn't help it. "Don't worry, bro – it's all just a mask I wear to protect my fragile soul." he made a dramatic gesture, one hand on his chest as though he were suffering the sadness of ages.

"You're protecting what now?" Donatello said over Raph's incredulous snort. He'd emerged from his alcove carrying a few tools along with some doodad that was clearly damaged, obviously planning on some light repair work in front of the tube.

"My fragile soul," Mike said casually, offering the chips. "I'm a complicated and tortured man beneath my sunny exterior, you know."

"Michelangelo," Donatello said in his serious voice, though Mike did not miss his subtle, wry smile. "We've had this talk. Now, where are the drugs, and who gave them to you this time?"

"Who's on drugs?" Leonardo had finished doing the dishes and was apparently feeling social this morning.

"Me," Michelangelo said, in his best impression of solemnity over Raph's guffaws and Don's quiet chuckles. "It's the only way I can deal with the emotions that fester within me, eating away at my soul and killing me from the inside."

"That's it – no more emo bands for you, young man," Leo said, taking command of the remote and sitting in his customary chair. "Now, are you going to pass me those Pringles or am I going to have to pry them from your greasy fingers?"

"Depends – are you going to make us watch some lame documentary again, or are you channelling your Inner Awesome today?"

Leo silently tossed over the remote and Mike surrendered the chips, settling in and getting comfy. There was TV to watch and fun to be had at his brothers' expense (because they _so_ owed him, whether they were aware of it or not) and later there would be a whole night's worth of Halloween festivities to enjoy street-side. Seemed like life, as always, was on the up and up.

And if his bros noticed from that point on that Mike was pulling out his showiest moves, striking more poses and putting way too much thought into his one-liners, they never asked, and Michelangelo didn't tell.


End file.
